


Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

by Bobblychicken



Category: Cars (Movies), Planes (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobblychicken/pseuds/Bobblychicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would be surprised if Wings Around the Globe Rally Champion Dusty Crophopper had a fear of thunderstorms? For anyone who's seen the first film, no one. But thankfully everyone's favorite Navy Corsair is here to save the day and offer some much needed comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

There are two kinds of people. The kind that love a good thunderstorm, and the kind where thunderstorms made them anxious, and Midwestern thunderstorms could be a bit more than the latter could shake a stick at.

Dusty had been watching a particular storm forming all day, getting bigger and bigger all the while on the horizon where no one else had yet noticed. Airplane eyes were amazing like that. In fact, if you were to shine a light into them you'd just see the shadows of a second iris and pupil within the first. This second lens gives aircraft almost telescopic vision, and what's more is that they can be moved independently of one another to bend the light coming through, giving them incredible depth perception.  


Thunderstorms had always made Dusty nervous; his dip in the ocean during his first ever run in the Wings Around the Glob Rally only made him even more tense when one ever came around. All day he had been watching from the corner of his eye as he went about his business, willing it to either break where it was or else veer away from Propwash Junction, but it never did. The clouds only grew and puffed up in grandeur and darkness as it slowly made its way toward them.

The sun was now setting behind the town and by the time everyone else was able to notice it, the storm was punctuated here and there by little sparks and threads of lightning, soft, far-off rolling thunder following each flash as the clouds were lit up from the inside out. Most of the townsfolk acknowledged the storm with a shrug, though their instincts were oppressive. Some began calmly packing up in preparation to be holed in for a little while. Dusty only fretted as the storm steadily came ever forward, almost taunting him. He could see the rain falling in sheets from the clouds where the storm was sitting above already, so dense that it almost seemed like a solid wall. _Awesome..._ he thought sarcastically.

By the time the storm finally broke over Propwash Junction the sun was almost set, and the rain drops were so big and falling at such a speed and multitude that it was almost painful. Dusty hadn't seen it pour this hard in a few years. He hunkered down under the occasional flashes of lightning and the rumble that followed. Skipper was there, appraising the storm dismissively before giving a snort of his engine, his prop spinning to shake the water off of it before moving off toward his hangar.

_Why can't I be more like him?_ Dusty thought. _He's not scared of anything._ So then he pointed his nose directly at the storm as it hung over them, going stiff in his landing gear as he screwed up his courage. The pounding rain stung at his eyes and body as it pelted down in the gallons, and he was getting more and more drenched by the second. Then the storm responded in kind to his defiant stance as a huge bolt of lightning lit the place up directly overhead as it spider-webbed all across the sky, a huge crash of thunder shaking the world to bits not hardly a second later.

“Tssokay!” Dusty let out a thin cry as he immediately lost his nerve, trying in vain to get it back and then giving up again just as quickly. “Alright! You don't gotta tell me twice! I'm good!”

Skipper was just about to enter his hangar when something small and orange darted under his wing and into the corner. He and Dusty stared at each other for a few moments.

“I'm staying in here.” Dusty blurted out awkwardly.

Skipper stared a minute longer before making a sort of shrugging shrugging motion, tipping his wings up slightly.

“Alright then.” was all he said before going over to hunker down into his sleeping mat.

His wings folded as he snuggled in a bit, making himself comfortable. Now was as good a time as any to take advantage of the pouring rain and get in a really good nap. Skipper always slept his best through a good storm.

It was pitch-black outside now, but the thunder and lightning had become a constant nuisance to Dusty. The thunder never seemed to stop and lightning incessantly flickered and flashed bright as a strobe light, like someone was just sitting and switching the daylight on and off. Skipper watched with soft intent as Dusty timidly moved toward the windows. He looked outside at the spectacle, and his engine gave a loud, harsh flutter. His frame was rigid and shaking slightly, his eyes wide and uneasy. He turned away, pacing a few times before going back to the window again. Another loud boom of thunder rattled the hangar and Dusty let out another anxious, drawn out flutter. Skipper lifted up a bit and called out to him.

“Dusty, come over here. Don't look at it if it stresses you out.”

Dusty miserably went over and laid down next to Skipper on the sleeping mat, his eyes still open and nervously looking toward the windows. Things seemed to settle just a bit then, and Dusty gradually began to calm down with his mentor beside him. His eyes slowly slipped closed and he snuggled in himself, but then he lifted back up again, his eyes bolting back open as his engine let out a sharp, high-pitched trilling squeal in weary agitation as lightning lit up the entire hangar and another tremendous crash of thunder shook the walls.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Skipper said, moving in a little closer to the smaller plane, his head still ringing from that awful noise he just made. “You're alright.”

Dusty laid back down, but remained alert, his breathing coming in quick, frightened puffs.

“How do you do it, Skipper?” he suddenly asked, “What's the trick?”

“Trick? What trick?”

“Not once have I have seen you scared or nervous or anything like that. What's the trick?”

Skipper's expression fell a bit, then he sighed.

“There ain't one, kid.” He felt Dusty tense up further next to him, understanding and not liking the answer he got. “Here.”

Surprising Dusty into stillness, Skipper rose, shuffling over and gently gathering Dusty up between his wing and belly. With his mentor's weight partially pressing on him, Dusty remained slightly tense, but after a little while, the movement and noise of Skipper's steady breathing above him gave the orange racer something else to focus on. The warmth of the larger plane's body and the feeling of being pressed in against him made Dusty feel secure. Eventually he forgot all about the thunder and the lightning that raged outside and drifted off to sleep. Skipper remained awake, a stalwart, classic stony expression marked his features as he stared down the hangar doors, as if daring the storm outside them to wake and frighten his charge again.


End file.
